POETRY

YOUR CROSS

Whatever your cross,
whatever your pain,
There will always be
sunshine after the rain.

Perhaps you may stumble,
perhaps even fall,
But God's always ready,
to answer your call.

He knows every heartache,
sees every tear,
A word from His lips.
can calm every fear.

Your sorrows may linger,
throughout the night,
But suddenly vanish,
at dawn's early light.

The Savior is waiting,
somewhere above,
To give you His grace,
and send you His love.

Whatever your cross,
whatever your pain,
God always sends rainbows,
after the rain.

MY WISH FOR YOU...

Where there is pain, we wish you peace and mercy.

Where there is self-doubting, we wish you a renewed
confidence in your ability to work through them.

Where there is tiredness, or exhaustion, we wish you
understanding, patience, and renewed strength.

Where there is fear, I wish you love, and courage.

Love and Peace to you my friend.

IN THE EAST

Far out beyond those misty clouds,
that veil the heavenly blue,
the Master sits within the East,
and checks on what you do.

So, as your daily tasks you do,
prosaic though they be,
the rule of plumb and square observe
for all the world to see.

For when at last your day must end,
your tools you lay away,
'twill be how well your work was done
on which he'll base your pay.

For when you rap upon that door,
and seek to enter in,
'tis only He can vouch for you,
and free you from your sin.

No ritual learned can earn that place,
o trappings, rich and rare,
'tis heart and mind and love of man
that grants you welcome there!

James F. Sullivan, PM-69

THE MOTHER LODGE

There was a Rundle, Station Master,
An' Beazeley of the rail;
An' Achman, commissariat,
An' Donkin o' the jail.

An' Blake, cunductor sergeant,
Our Master twice was ‘e,
With ‘im that kept the Europe shop,
Old Framjee Eduljee.

Outside "Sergeant!
Sir! Salute! Slam!"
Inside "Brother"
an' it doesn't do no ‘arm,

We meet upon the level
an' we parted on the square,
An' I was Junior Deacon
in my Mother Lodge out there.

There was Bola Nath, accountant,
And Saul, the Aden Jew,
An, Din Mohammed, draughtsman,
Of the Sursey office, too.

There was Babu Chicekerhitty,
An' Amir Singh, the Sikh,
An' Castro of the fittin' sheds,
A Roman Catholic.

We ‘ad n't good regalia,
An' our Lodge was old an' bare;
But we knew the ancient landmarks,
An' we kept ‘em to a hair.

An' looking on it backwards,
It often strikes me thus,
There ain't such things as ‘eathen now,
Except, per'aps, it's us.

For monthly after labor
We'd all sit down an' smoke
We durs'nt give no banquets
Least a brother's caste were broke.

An' man on man got bukkin'
Religion an' the rest,
An' every man comparin'
Of the God 'e knowed the best.

So man on man got started,
An' not a beggar stirred
Till mornin' waked the parrots,
An' that dam' brain-fever bird.

We'd say't was very curious,
An' we'd all go ‘ome to bed
With Mohammed, God, an' Shira,
Changin' pickets in our ‘ead.

Full out of Gov'ment service
This wanderin' foot ‘ath pressed
An' bore fraternal greetin's
To the Lodges East and West.

Accordin' as commanded,
From Ko'at to Singapore,
But I wish that I might see them
In my Mother Lodge once more.

I wish that I might see them,
My Brethren white and brown,
With the burlies smellin' pleasant
An' the ag-dan passin' down.

An' the old Khansannah snorin'
On the bottle-Khana floor,
Like a Brother in good standing
With my Mother Lodge once more.

Outside-"Sergeant! Sir! Salute! Slam!"
Inside-"Brother" an' it doesn't do no ‘arm,
We meet upon the level an' we parted on the square,
An' I was Junior Deacon in my Mother Lodge out there.

Rudyard Kipling

THE POEM

I knelt to pray but not for long,
I had too much to do.
I had to hurry and get to work
For bills would soon be due.

So I knelt and said a hurried prayer,
And jumped up off my knees.
My Christian duty was now done
My soul could rest at ease.

All day long I had no time
To spread a word of cheer.
No time to speak of Christ to friends,
They'd laugh at me I'd fear.

No time, no time, too much to do,
That was my constant cry,
No time to give to souls in need
But at last the time, the time to die.

I went before the Lord,
I came, I stood with downcast eyes.
For in his hands God held a book;
It was the book of life.

God looked into his book and said
"Your name I cannot find.
I once was going to write it down...
But never found the time"

"I WOULD IF I COULD "

There's a lot of things I could do,
at least according to you.
Where there's a will, there's a way,
and I won't plan a strenuous day.

I appreciate the offer,
but I'm afraid I'm going to pass.
Like the gauge that reads empty,
the car starts ,but soon runs out of gas.

I know it's hard to understand,
but some things are beyond me today.
At times I hardly make a move,
and just barely get through the day.

Sometimes walking across the room,
is a mental and physical strain.
I know I would enjoy myself,
but I wouldn't enjoy the pain.

You think I'm being difficult,
believe me ,that isn't true.
You can't begin to imagine,
all the things I'd like to do.

Nobody willingly gives up,
all the pleasures of the past.
We fight to hold on to them,
wishing forever they would last.

My life now has limitations,
far more than you can see.
If My "No" disappoints you,
Imagine, how it's affecting me!

Dixie L. Lippert

[ Main ] [ Previous ] [ Next ]